


On Leave

by ivanattempts



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Also language., Consider yourself warned., M/M, Vague hints of bullying and homophobia., mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:52:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanattempts/pseuds/ivanattempts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Adult Seb with teen Jim. Something to do with homophobia and bullying and angst because feelings."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Leave

Honestly, he should have just kept his nose out of it all. It wasn’t his business in the slightest. It was even less his business, considering the kid’s age. But, being on leave from the war, with no desire to see his family, and no dame waiting for him at the bus stop?

Well, a man had to find amusement somewhere.

This particular brand of amusement came under the guise of one James Moriarty, or Jim; schoolboy he’d happened across after he’d had just a bit too much too drink, and a bit less sense than he’d needed to keep his hands off him. He was a skinny thing, who looked like he perpetually had bruises under his eyes. Sometimes Sebastian wondered if he ever slept. Sometimes he wondered if he was just getting beaten all the time.

As it turned out, it was a bit of both, but he didn’t find that out until around the fifteenth day of his leave. Sebastian was staying in a small-ish flat on Conduit Street, and as it happened, Jim seemed to like simply showing up there; not that Sebastian minded. It usually consisted of him opening the door to find a rather desperate teenage boy flinging his arms around him and kissing him stupid, and that was always welcome.

Well, as long as no one saw. There’d be issues with the higher ups if word got back to his commanding officers that he’d spent his entire leave tempting an underage boy into his bed-not that it had required much tempting.

So, when he opened the door and found Jim wrapping himself around him as usual, Sebastian thought nothing of it. He backed them into the flat, kicked the door closed behind him and flicked the lock before he hoisted the boy up in his arms, hands cupped under his arse to support him. They staggered to the bed, and it was all tongues and teeth, roaming hands, just the usual, until he tasted salt.

…salt?

Confused, he broke the kiss, intending to make a remark about whatever the kid’s mom had packed him for lunch – though, he often wondered where Jim’s parents were at all, in that they didn’t notice how often their son went missing, or crashed with him, or was limping – but stopped himself when he saw the tears.

“…Jim?”

The boy tried to kiss him again, but Sebastian held him back, frowning. “Jim, look at me. What’s wrong?”

Jim tried to shake his head, but he was trembling beneath Sebastian’s fingers. He shifted from his prone position on the bed to slide his arms around Jim’s waist, cradling him against his chest. A little sob escaped the boy then, harsh, sounding as if it had had to tear itself from his lungs and throat.

Oh fuck. What did he do now? Sebastian didn’t know how to fix this. A bit awkwardly, he rubbed his hands in soothing circles over the shaking boy’s back, and Jim continued to cry. It was his mistake in thinking Jim was sad, though – when the boy looked up, all Sebastian saw was fury. And more importantly, he saw Jim wince whenever he ran his hands too roughly over his skin.

“Take your shirt off, babe.”

The boy hesitated, still shaking with quiet fury, and there was something so _wild_ in those dark eyes, something inside of him that no boy his age should ever feel, and _God_ , if it didn’t set Sebastian on edge in the best of ways.

Slowly, very slowly, Jim’s hands lowered to the hem of his shirt, and drew it up, over his head. While there were marks on his chest, it was his back that looked like it had sustained the most damage, as if he’d been slammed repeatedly against something. Lockers would be Sebastian’s guess.

“Fucking Christ; who did this to you?”

Jim’s fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

“Powers.”

The single word was quiet, so quiet that Sebastian had trouble understanding him.

“Who?”

“Carl Powers. I’m going to kill him.”

The statement was so…cold. So calm, despite the way he shook, despite the tears still rolling down his cheeks.

Sebastian believed him.

His eyes trailed down the boy’s body, along those bruises, the vicious marks that stained his young lover’s skin.

“He saw me with you.”

The words made Sebastian’s blood run cold.

“Me?” He echoed quietly, looking up at Jim, who simply nodded. Some little punk had done this to Jim because…because of him?

More importantly, someone knew about them. Someone had seen them.

Someone could ruin his life if they decided to blab.

His eyes lowered to the bruises once more, and slowly, very slowly, his lips curled into a smirk.

“When do you want to do this, Jim?”

The boy smiled, and when he moved to kiss him this time, Sebastian didn’t stop him.

\-------------

Sebastian was alone at the bus stop when his leave was over; or so he’d thought. The bus was just pulling in when he felt a hand on his wrist. He turned to see Jim, the boy panting, out of breath, as if he’d run all the way there from school – which he probably had - and he smiled; Jim did the same, and looked as if he wanted to throw his arms around him, but refrained, instead pushing a newspaper into his hands.

“Don’t die.”

Sebastian chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Stay out of trouble until I get back, alright?”

Jim shrugged a shoulder, and Sebastian hefted his bag. “See you soon, Sebby.”

Sebastian tossed him another smile, and got on the bus. He unrolled the newspaper to see the headline; Carl Powers, found dead, no leads, and…fuck, was that…lipstick?

Jim had kissed the goddamn page.

_Well. That’s a keeper._


End file.
